Hermione Granger and the Den of Maleficence
by Elyse88
Summary: Hermione might not be a Slytherin, but she's out-Slytherined the Malfoys and now as a consequence she's found herself sharing a flat with a new group of friends she hadn't bargained on and some new and old issues to deal with. Currently HG/RW later HG/BZ.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1- Blaise just had a bad break up. **

"You're a faggot, Zabini," Parv spat.

There was an awkward pause during which Blaise arched a perfect single eyebrow and nothing else happened.

"Oh, shut up!" Parvati growled. She grabbed a black plastic garbage bag containing a few of her possessions up off the floor and flung it over her shoulder. Trying visibly to control her angry sobbing she stalked past Blaise and Hermione and out of the house.

"Why did you have to say _that_?" Hermione asked. She was horrified to have witnessed the entire sorrowful scene.

"Why are you so surprised?" Blaise asked, turning to face her "I'm an asshole, it's what we do. I saw an opening for a final parting insult and I took it."

"You _are_ an asshole," Hermione said as if she almost couldn't believe it. She stumbled past him into the lounge room and threw herself down on the big purple couch, tangling her favourite throw rug up around her legs.

"I am," Blaise agreed sidling up and sitting down heavily beside her. He popped the tangle of blanket and legs on his lap, "But you like me".

"Sometimes I find myself questioning my own sanity," she retorted.

"I don't blame you" he said with a grin and a soft pinch of her big toe peeking out from the tangle in his lap.

"But Blaise," she continued in a disbelieving tone, "you're so much more than an arse hole. I don't understand. This jerk exterior you have going on, why are you so desperately clinging to it?"

And as far as Hermione was concerned it was true. Blaise was always quick to jump twenty steps ahead and take things too far, offending anyone within earshot but it was almost an instinctive trigger response when he felt threatened or anxious. She'd hated him at first of course, everyone did. But his position in Draco's life and therefore constant presence in hers had, in the year since she'd blackmailed the Malfoy's into funding SPEW, made her a bit of an expert on Slytherins.

"You're the one who insists that I have '_redeeming_' qualities Hermione. I've never pretended to be anything but a jerk and Parvati wasn't exactly friendly back there."

Hermione's responding look was meant to convey a stern warning not to carry along on that same line of thought, "That might be because you very publicly dumped her in the Great Court yesterday and proclaimed to the entire student body that she was ´crap in the sack' just to mortify her. She's a _nice_ girl Blaise, she didn't deserve that."

"I did that so that she would hate me. It makes it all so much easier when you have a reason to hate the person dumping you."

Hermione's questioning brow was enough to make him pause for a minute.

"Well she _was_ crap in the sack," he continued.

"No," Hermione replied firmly. "You broke up with her because you were too chicken to face up to the scary prospect of maybe having a relationship with someone that might involve actual feelings."

Blaise, for the most part, remained unruffled but Hermione knew him well enough by now to be able to interpret the slight narrowing of the eyes as an indication that she'd hit rather close to home.

"This is rich coming from the woman who's been mooning around the flat for the past week because she's not entirely sure if she's one hundred percent in love with her boyfriend. Oh yes _I know about that,_ Hermione. Sounds like a really credible expert on the heart and human relationships, don't you think?" he sneered.

"I might take the bait Blaise" Hermione said sounding a bit put out despite herself, "But I was fully expecting you to hit back with an insult and by the way, if you thought I'd be surprised that you know all about my relationship problems with Ron then you're wrong because I know that you skulk around listening to my phone calls to my mum. I also know that you've been snooping through my e-mails. I just don't know how you worked out how to use my computer."

She got up from the sofa and his close proximity in order to try to restrain her temper and walked over to the open kitchen and started banging around in the pantry.

"Lack of privacy is just one of the perks of living with a total jerk," Blaise supplied but with a roguish grin. The same grin that might have made Hermione want to punch anyone else in the teeth. He alone could pull it off with his almost infeasible good looks.

"Canned Spaghetti on toast for dinner then again?" she asked desperately trying to diffuse the situation by changing the subject.

"Again?" Blaise groaned.

"Well Draco still hasn't done the shopping and it's _his_ turn again".

They always starved on Draco weeks until she decided to go out and rescue them all from malnourishment. Draco of course complained more loudly and frequently than anyone else, especially when he was hungry but he could never be prevailed on to actually do his share of the chores.

"What do you expect from him Hermione, the man's probably never even seen a trolley," Blaise said stretching his lithe body out over the entire vacant couch, "can't you do it? I've just had a bad break up," he pleaded.

Hermione gave him a mental kick in the shins with the sharp narrowing of her eyes.

"No," she said emphatically. "Besides, our flat is in a completely muggle zone. He needs to _learn,_ Blaise."

"I know," Blaise said looking a little mournful, "It's just that yesterday I came home and found him practically in tears because his sheets were dirty and he was tired and he couldn't work the washing machine."

Hermione did feel a twinge of sympathy when she pictured the pathetic pointy face welling up with tears over his soiled, mint green, Egyptian cotton sheets.

"Well he might have used magic," she mumbled still riffling through the contents of the pantry and feeling mildly alarmed at some of scientific discoveries she was making.

Blaise arched a single brow from his place on the couch, and though her back was to him, she could _feel_ the ire directed her way.

"Would you stop doing that eyebrow thing? It's annoying," she snapped and then huffily gave up her search for sustenance and commenced boiling the dependable kettle for a nice cup of tea.

"You are right though," she continued after a while, "he's like a puppy and one of us needs to adopt him but I don't see why it has to be me." She gave him a very pointed look. "_You're_ his best friend."

"No, Pansy is and we're men, Hermione," he replied lazily lifting his empty coffee cup from its usual position on the rug by the foot of the coffee table waving at her. "Besides," Blaise continued, "It's you he's infatuated with. He's completely besotted actually. Follows you around like a groupie or something, secretly writes you poems at night in his diary…" he let this one hang, a saucy smile in his voice that at first went unnoticed.

"Oh, Draco´s just going through a phase. He'll get over…" Hermione stopped her dismissal mid sentence, her mouth gaping open, "Did you say poems?"

Blaise looked about ready to cackle, "Oh you heard me."

There was a moment when Hermione really was determined to just let it alone and forget Blaise had ever said anything. But it was only a moment.

"And how do you know? You read them?" she asked trying to sound innocent as she added more coffee to the carafe.

"Only one," Blaise said, "because I was waiting," he said sitting up with what looked like pure deviance written all over his beautiful face.

"For what?" Hermione asked.

"Your reaction" he supplied, "how sweet it will be to read them for the first time with the very muse who inspired them. Because I _know_ Draco and these are bound to be a treat."

"No," Hermione replied horrified, "We can't possibly!"

Blaise raised a single eyebrow.

"Can we?"

_AN: Look, this fic is basically just drabble. I lost my laptop and the pretty much completed version at the start of the year but for some reason I always find myself returning to this story when I have writers block. It was supposed to be set within a month but I'm not really committed to working within those constraints. So I'm going to redo what I've already posted and keep posting as I write more. Also, if you want the back-story, check out Hermione Granger and the Dirge of Malfoy Pride. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2- I'm in love with a Gryffindor swine and I feel fine. **

"This is wrong," Hermione said darkly.

They were sitting on Draco´s messily made bed with a black leather diary that had the name 'Draco' embossed prettily in gold on the spine. Hermione suspected Pansy had brought it for him because Hermione could begrudgingly admit that she admired Pansy's style when she wasn't mentally calling her filthy, filthy names. The diary sat filling the space between them like a ten thousand pound elephant.

"No it isn't," Blaise replied while picking up the books, "It's a laugh."

"Well yes, you _would_ think so wouldn't you?" Hermione asked feeling herself to be teetering between hyperventilation and serious curiosity, "_You're_ morally ambiguous."

"Oh and all that slinking and snooping that you and your two stooges got up to at Hogwarts was honourable was it?" Blaise asked indignantly.

Hermione coloured, "Well that's an entirely different…"

"It doesn't matter," Blaise said cutting her off, "because Draco´s been sneaking into your room for months now, poking around in your underwear draw and snooping on your laptop."

"So have you! How else could Draco possibly even turn my computer on?"

"Yes," Blaise said, "But I'm not the one who's been filching from your emergency stash of chocolate."

Hermione felt a twitch coming on in her left eye.

"Let's do this," she said firmly.

Five minutes later saw the pair of them literally howling with laughter and rolling around on Draco´s bed.

"Stop, Blaise," Hermione said suddenly sitting up looking very, very serious. "If you keep reading, I might want to stab myself for invading his privacy like this because despite the fact that apparently Draco´s got no concept of rhythm or poetic taste, that last one was really rather sweet and endearing and despite the fact that he is the author of 'I Want To Set Fire to Your Evil Cat´ and ´I'm In Love with a Gryffindor Swine and I Feel Fine´ I just love him all the more for it and… I'm a bad person for doing this with you."

Blaise sat up as well but looked thoroughly unconvinced, "But Hermione," he wheedled, "We haven't read 'A Bookworm Ate a Hole Through the Pages of My Heart' yet."

"No Blaise," she said firmly, "This is probably the worst thing I've ever done to a friend except that time with the broomstick and Harry and… well there were a few times with Harry but my point is that I think this whole Draco thing might be more serious than I thought. He really _does_ love me."

It was something Hermione and Blaise had treated as a phase for months now, almost amused by Draco's attempts at moody and passionate emotional abandonment in the throes of puppy love. Hermione had always been good-natured about it, gently rebuffing his advances but in a way that reassured him. Draco had such a large and peculiar personality that it was sometimes easy to forget that he was a person too with real feelings.

"No," Blaise said shifting a little closer and placing the closed diary into her lap, "I've known Draco all my life and he's infatuated with this image of you as this tough Amazon warrior that stands up to his parents and takes Lucius Malfoy down a notch."

Suddenly Hermione found herself staring into a very serious, hazel set of eyes that were staring right back into her own.

"But that's not who you really are," Blaise continued, "I mean you did treat Lucius like your whipping boy which was brilliant, but that's not a foundation for love. Draco thinks you're the one because you did what he's wanted to do his entire life, you out-Slytherined the Malfoy´s and you changed his life."

It took Hermione a while to figure out that Blaise had stopped talking because frankly her brain was whirring. It didn't happen too often, but when Blaise peeled off some of the armour and revealed those ´redeeming qualities´ he had a keen sensitivity and an awareness and fondness for his friends that he normally tried desperately to deny. But this time it was different, it wasn't only alien and wonderful, there was a slow burn starting in her chest. She was beginning to worry that he might be feeling sentimental. Something Hermione rarely allowed herself to feel because it tended to undermine her sense of control.

"Yes, well," she said snapping back into reality and getting up off the bed, "all the same, I'll remember to be a bit more delicate with him in future, even if he has been fumbling my knickers and stealing my chocolate."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3- Pathetic Potter is petting her like a Puppy!**

Hermione admitted to herself some time later that she was definitely going to drive herself crazy if she kept obsessing over the Ron thing and now the Draco thing. Worst of all, her emergency chocolate had not so mysteriously disappeared and although her housemates were finally out doing the grocery shopping she needed something to soothe her frayed nerves. A drink would suffice.

The problem was that her number one rule was never to drink alone. Parv had been her drinking buddy of late, not that it had been often but it had been nice to confide in someone else who was having relationship problems. It had forged a bond between them that had been absent during their seven years of sharing a dorm together at Hogwarts.

She couldn't call Harry of course, because liquor might make her tongue loose and it was _Harry_. She did not want to put him in between her and Ron, not ever.

Her thoughts of him were tinged with longing. Things had been rather strained between the two since she'd moved in with Draco and Blaise. Actually things had been rather strained since she'd befriended Draco when they went back to Hogwarts the year before to complete their final year of schooling. Ron had actually been surprisingly good about it, not exactly supportive of her goals for S.P.E.W. and her decision to actually try to get along with Draco. But he recognized that her crafty blackmailing of the Malfoy family had guaranteed that she was bound to have a lot to do with them post Hogwarts. He wasn't at the point of committing mass homicide either, so she thought that was pretty good.

Draco had been surprisingly receptive to her offerings of friendship. Won over, she knew, by her Slytherinish business dealings with his father that had kept the Malfoy's out of jail and guaranteed S.P.E.W. very lucrative support when she finally got it up and running properly.

But despite the fact that he'd been pretty wrapped up with Ginny that year, Harry had never really quite warmed to the idea that she'd almost unconsciously come to befriend the entire group of Slytherins from school.

Yes, he'd been willing to help keep the Malfoy's out of jail. Well Draco anyway, but she thought that was probably because he had a very strong set of morals. Or maybe it was the fact that he felt he owed Narcissa Malfoy for not giving him away to Voldemort in the end.

Actually she didn't quite know. There was a whole barrel of issues on both sides that would have to be dealt with at some time.

Her thoughts were broken by a loud knock at the door.

"Coming!" she called thinking the boys had forgotten their keys and were too lazy to spell their way in. She threw on a bathrobe and padded barefoot to the front door.

"Oh," she said upon first opening the front door in her fluffy white bathrobe, "_Oh!_"

"Is that a proper greeting for a best friend?" Harry asked leaning against the door jamb with an easy grin. He was the same: messy hair, green eyes with big speccy glasses and angry red scar wrapped up in a pair of baggy trousers. It made her heart thrum with love every time he caught her off guard. Briefly she wondered if she has subconsciously performed an _Accio Harry_ spell.

"Oh god, no!" she said and then launched herself at him almost literally squeezing the breath out of him, laughing manically. She launched into rapid-fire chatter, "It's so good to see you here, _here_. I seem to recall someone labelling it the D_en of Immorality and General Slytherin Maleficience._"

Harry smiled awkwardly, "yes well..."

"Oh don't worry," Hermione said smiling and feeling genuinely happy for the first time in a month, "The cretins are out so you're safe here with just me, no chance of being infected by evil today."

She tugged him roughly by the arm into the house and down the hall towards her room and pushed her bedroom door open.

"Sorry Harry, it's been a bad day but…" and here she stopped noticing the large pack and bed roll he'd been dragging behind him, "Harry, is everything ok?" He looked even more bedraggled than usual if that was possible.

Harry scratched the nape of his neck endearingly and smiled shyly, "Look Hermione, I'm sorry to just turn up on your doorstep like this but do you think it might be ok if I slept on your floor for a little while?"

He had a kind of pleading look in her eye that sent her innards into spasms of panic.

"Why are you even bothering to ask, of course!" she said lurching forward and grabbing both his hands in her own and squeezing them tight, "But it's serious isn't it? You would never willingly sleep under the same roof as Draco Malfoy unless you had to, right?" she asked very quickly and with an obvious and strained note of panic.

Harry looked very hesitant; Hermione had a foreboding sense of doom. But then that might have just been a knee jerk reaction to brooding Harry.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's ok too, but I wish you would" she said dropping his hands and going over and sitting on her bed then patting the space beside her for him to join her.

"That's not it… it's not exactly a secret it's just that Grimmauld Place has been compromised again and I don't trust my wards enough to be living there alone while Ron's in Romania."

It wasn't the first time it had happened. Harry still had his fair share of enemies in the world, people who were either jealous of his fame or still harbouring resentment against him for being the killer of the Dark Lord.

"I just feel a bit sheepish, that's all. A grown man and an Auror and I can't stand to live alone," he said staring at his grubby boots on her pristine, white sheep skin rug. Well it was pristine in the sense that she'd been able to stop Crookshanks from urinating on it for a while now. So she was rather proud of it these days.

"That's completely normal Harry" she said stroking his back as if to make up for a months worth of neglected affection. They weren't usually so demonstrative, but the fact that he was leaning into her touch and not even rolling his eyes and looking so lost and serious, well Hermione would take the opportunity to pet her friend while he'd let her.

"It's just that with Ron gone to Romania and Ginny on tour, I've been having a rough time these past few weeks. And well… I know that when you're not busy with Uni you're generally busy with S.P.E.W. or working so I try not to bother you but…"

"But…" she prompted.

He suddenly met her gaze with an honest, open and pained expression.

"I've missed you."

"Oh Harry" she moaned and even though she was desperate to not make him feel any worse, a pesky tear crept out and rolled its way down her left cheek and she was sniffing and wailing, "I've missed you too."

"Hey, hey" he said wrapping a comforting arm around her and making pleasant shushing noises. "I'm here now. This whole thing has been bloody ridiculous and I'm sorry. I take fully responsibility and I'm here to prove that I can live with your choice in friends, quite literally if that's okay.I'll just camp out here for a while. It'll be like when we were on the run, sleep over parties. I'll let you paint my toe nails again and we can tell each other about our secret celebrity crushes."

"Ok" Hermione said smiling up at him, although she couldn't remember ever painting his toenails or talking about celebrity crushes while they'd been hunting Horcruxes and Hallows. Actually, it sounded like fun. She smiled up at Harry and he ruffled her hair.

"SHUT UP YOU ABSOLUTE FERRETY WANKER!" came a familiar rumble in the hall announcing the arrival of Hermione's house mates. There was the sound of rustling shopping bags and the very distinct but indefinable whining of Draco Malfoy.

"Hullo," said another voice. Then a gorgeous Spanish face to match peeked around Hermione's door.

Blaise's eyes narrowed taking in Harry's presence and his pleasant smile turned into a scowl, "Oh touching," he poked his head out of the doorway once more and could be heard yelling out for Malfoy's benefit, "Draco, Pathetic Potters here and he's petting Hermione like she's a puppy."

Harry smothered a laugh or perhaps a pained groan.

There was some very colourful swearing coming from the kitchen and a small angular face not entirely devoid of attraction soon popped around the door as well.

"What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing _here_ Potter?" Draco spat like a wild cat.

Hermione grimaced, embarrassed by her housemates poor behaviour. Harry, Hermione was pleased to note, only looked vaguely amused. This might have had something to do with the red blotchy rash that was making its way up Draco´s neck to his face rapidly.

"Harry's going to be staying here for a while," Hermione said in her best no-nonsense Mcgonagall tone of voice. Usually Draco heeled when told to in that voice, this time, he did not.

"Not bloody likely!" he spluttered.

"Let me handle this" Blaise said pushing his friend further into the room and moving into the doorway himself, "No way Potter."

Hermione expected something more effusive. Nothing came. She simply rolled her eyes, "You've no say in this, either of you. Especially you Draco, because you've less than no say…"

"Why just me? Why not Blaise too?" Draco whined.

Hermione didn't warrant that with a response.

"Listen to me boys, I've been putting up with Pugilistic Parkinson, Buffalo Bullstrode and Noxious Nott for months now and this is the first, the FIRST time Harry has even stepped through the front door and I expected more from the both of you."

Harry would have been impressed by the dressing down she was giving the two men she lived with, if he hadn't been on the receiving end of her dressing downs a time or two before. So, no matter how much he didn't like the company she kept, right now, he kind of felt sorry for them.

"Besides" Hermione added with an air of finality, "I've not once commented on your bedfellows so you've no need to comment on mine."

She thought she heard Harry choking beside her but was too busy revelling in the looks of dawning realization and sick horror on both her housemates face to comfort him. Sometimes, she was not above a good wind up.

"Fine," Draco ground out from between clenched teeth, "but don't expect a warm welcome Potter."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry called after Draco's retreating back as he flounced out of the room.

"Hermione?" Blaise said darkly, "We need to talk in private."

Hermione heaved a sigh at his dramatics.

"Not now Blaise, Harry's taking me out for dinner, aren't you Harry?"

Harry quirked a smile, "I am?"

She nodded, smiling.

"All the same," Blaise continued, "It's about Draco."

"Well all right," Hermione said, "Talk as I work, I want to put a bit of makeup on in the bathroom."

She all but pushed Zabini out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4- Die Blaise, Die!**

"Okay, talk" she said firmly closing the door behind her and turning to start at her reflection in the mirror. Absently she took her wild hair and began taming it into a high ponytail, running a brush through it quickly.

"Bed fellows?" Blaise asked dryly and with that irritating eyebrow arch again, "Do you have any idea what this means? This means that I'm going to spend the night prying Draco from the floor where he'll be cowering saying, 'do you really think she's doing Potter?' over and over and over again. He's only just come to terms with the thought that you might have held Weasley's hand once. _Maybe_."

"You're being ridiculously dramatic as usual Blaise," Hermione said pulling open her makeup draw which really technically shouldn't have been a whole draw as it was so sparse.

"Draco's got nothing to worry about, not that my sex life is any of his business. I'm seeing Ron remember?" She pulled out her mascara wand and started making odd faces in the mirror as she applied it.

Blaise looked at her scrunching up her with one of her big brown eyes all squished down and her tongue just peeping out at the edge of her mouth.

"Besides," she said and he hadn't realized she'd been talking, "You and Draco have known all along what you signed up for when you became my friend. Harry, Ron and I- We're a package deal."

"Packages are usually pleasant," Blaise mumbled.

"What was that?" she asked now moved on to applying a fine sheen of bronzer to the apples of her cheeks.

"Nothing," he replied, too coolly.

"Look, it's not like I enjoy Pansy's sardonic smiles and the thinly veiled criticisms about my hair and my taste in fashion. But I put up with her because she's _your_ friend and that's what I expect from you two, despite your personal feelings about my friends. This is a shared flat and we're adults, the Slytherin and Gryffindor thing has got to stop. You're not East Germany and we're not West Germany, we're ALL German with no wall to separate us," she stressed.

"Actually, I'm Spanish," he said just to piss her off.

"I'm just saying," she said applying a little lip gloss, "being friends with Harry shouldn't be any different to being friends with me."

"You have breasts," Blaise offered, "If Potter grew a pair, we might consider it a suitable olive branch," he wrinkled his nose at the thought, "probably not."

She'd only lived with him for three months, but she already knew not to bite.

"Okay Blaise, conversation over," she said and then smiled at her reflection. She was an averagely tall girl, with a decent nose, slightly protruding cheeks and deep set eyes, but those lips and those breasts and that intelligent glint in her eye and that wild mess of hair gave her at least something to work with. Blaise thought she looked more than decent but he wasn't going to tell her so in those plain terms. He was angry at her and a little confused.

"Much better," he said motioning toward the makeup.

Really, Hermione expected something like that but the nasty gleam in his eye kind of negated the fact that this was just him being his dysfunctional self and it cut her vanity to the quick. A vanity that was lacklustre at the best of times without helpful comments like that one from people like Blaise and Pansy.

"Arsehole," she announced, but not in the playful way she'd said it earlier. This time there was some sting to it.

And her eyes were stinging and her cheeks were burning which was exactly the juvenile reaction he was hoping for.

"By the way," he said slowly and with a very obvious note of vindication that had her on the balls of her feet, ready to pounce, "Don't go for the all you can eat buffet tonight, girls like you need to watch their weight very carefully."

She knew it was his defence mechanism when he was flailing emotionally, but dammit if it didn't hurt. So she really couldn't be blamed when she drew her wand from her robe pocket and spun around to hex the living daylights out of him. But he was already halfway out the door and not wanting to risk a rebound she grabbed her hairbrush instead and flung it unceremoniously after him.

And then smiled when she heard it made contact.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5- Screw you Bruce Willis!**

"Come on Harry," she barked a couple of minutes later stepping out into the hall to meet him in a pair of jeans and a loose Stubby Boardman t-shirt.

"Err, Hermione?" Harry asked staring down at the picture on the front of her shirt, "Aren't we going to a muggle place and, isn't stubby only famous in the Wizarding World."

Hermione shrugged, "People will just assume he's an obscure folk singer and I'll be given Indie Cred," she explained.

Harry shrugged.

"Shall we take the bike?" he asked hopefully.

"Not a chance" she replied sweetly.

Five minutes later she was screaming Harry's ear off on the back of Sirius Black's old motorbike, newly repaired. Harry had used his secret weapon on her like usual. It was those big green eyes and like usual she was cursing Lily Evans for her genetic legacy. But thankfully the ride to The Red House was very short. In fact it was actually walking distance but Hermione didn't want to sound bitter about being forced onto the death trap Harry was so fond of.

"So what are you up for tonight?" Harry asked as they pushed open the heavy doors and were greeted by a singular kind of Chinese elevator music fusion that never failed to both annoy and amuse.

"All you can eat buffet, naturally," she said with a private grin.

"Excellent," Harry replied happily and then ambled up to the front desk to tell the waitress they were for the buffet.

Twenty minutes later saw them both happily seated at a nice, secluded little table shovelling down their food and chatting amiably.

"So I think I might be responsible for getting Draco addicted to TV," she said innocently enough. Harry's snorted and forgot to chew his dumpling and ended up spluttering awkwardly for a couple of seconds.

"You what?"

"Yeah it was really cute at first, I thought I'd educate the boys about muggle things, so their horizons are broadened a bit because it's so stupid to be restricted to the tiny magical world when there is so much out there in the muggle world to be enjoyed. Anyway, I got a TV and I thought I'd show them what muggles do for entertainment. Anyway, Blaise is really quick on the uptake because he sometimes visits his muggle relatives but Draco…"

"Hold on," Harry said, "What on earth made you think it as a good idea to give Draco a muggle education?"

Hermione chuckled, "Oh if you'd just seen his little face when I first turned it on. It was like a kitten attacking its own reflection in a mirror. He started shouting obscenities at Bruce Willis and asking me how he could travel through to the other side of the screen and it was just too funny. But then, after a while he cottoned on to its entertainment value and now I think he's skipping classes to watch soap operas and it's not cute it's unhealthy and disturbing and I'm pretty sure that any chance of a reconciliation with his parents EVER has gone out the window."

Despite himself Harry was laughing because really, he could imagine the ferret flying into a rage with the rude talking men in the box and then it was like he had just stepped into a cold shower.

"Hermione," he said almost shivering, "how did this happen?"

She took long sip from her mohito- the _real_ reason they came to The Red Door was cheap tasty cocktails, because frankly the food was shitty.

"How did what happen?" she asked absently licking a bit of sugar from the rim.

"This," Harry said gesturing wildly at nothing in particular.

Nevertheless Hermione understood what he meant because she'd been expecting this long overdue outburst for quite some time.

"You, Malfoy and Zabini and when did they become 'the boys' because I'm pretty sure that was Ron and I not so long ago. Why are you living with them and not us? Since when are you an honorary Slytherin?" he asked with a real edge to his voice.

"It's complicated Harry, I mean," she began awkwardly fiddling with the stem of her glass, "it's not like I even really know how it happened myself."

"That's bullshit Hermione, you don't just wake up one day friends with your worst enemy," he said glaring at her.

"Well, no it was gradual. But he was _your_ worst enemy to begin with, not mine and I just…" she couldn't finish her sentence so Harry did it for her a little sadly.

"Let it happen."

"Yeah," Hermione said leaning in over the table and looking at her best friend earnestly, "yeah Harry, but that doesn't... it hasn't changed the way I feel about you and Ron," she tightened her grip on the glass, something painful restricting and contracting in her chest, "_you're_ family. You're more family then my own family who are half way around the world sitting on a beach somewhere probably thinking about how pleasant the weather is. You, Ron and the rest of the Weasley's are really the only family I have left back here."

But Harry still wasn't entirely convinced. "You treat Malfoy like some kind of cuddly pet to be coddled and adored and ignored when it gets into a snit and I don't even know what to say about Zabini expect that all that seems to come out of your mouth these days is, 'Blaise said this' or 'Blaise did that' and Ginny said you've only barely written to her these past couple of months and it's not _you_ Hermione," here he stopped looking almost weary, she was so busy thinking about how to reply that she almost missed the near whisper, "why did you leave Grimmauld place?"

"Harry, I just…"

"Were you unhappy with us?" he cut her off with a little more volume.

"God no," Hermione said tearing up a bit, "that's not… believe me Harry. Ron and I were starting to get a bit serious and my parents were moving back to Australia and I don't know what happened Harry... Don't you ever feel like you can't breathe you need a change so bad?"

"No," Harry replied angrily, "never from you and Ron! You're being so evasive Hermione."

"That's not what I meant at all," she admonished, "I just mean that Ron and I were living on top of each other and I just wasn't ready for that. You seemed happier and I thought maybe you'd be ok without me for a while and then Draco showed up in a right mess, practically begging me to help him survive his parents wrath because he _finally_ stood up to them and it was my fault really because I inspired him to do it and I couldn't _not_ help him because by then we were friends and I couldn't exactly invite him to live with us at Grimmauld Place, could I?"

"You might have asked us," Harry grumbled.

Hermione just gave him a disbelieving look in reply.

"Yes well no," he said taking a swig from his margarita, "but why couldn't his little posse of thieves and criminals look after him?"

Hermione shrugged, "He's the leader of their little group Harry and he was a mess so consequently they were a mess and they were flailing and I helped them, I'm still helping them and it makes me feel good."

"Well I'll be honest, it kind of makes me feel shitty" Harry replied, "you don't know what it feels like. I hate losing people Hermione and you've been slipping through my fingers for a year," he was looking like a lost little boy now, reminding her for the second time that evening of all his vulnerabilities just barely hidden beneath the surface.

"I know," she said, "well I mean I realized tonight what it might have seemed like to you but I wasn't slipping away, not in here," she tapped her chest, right over her heart.

"Ron…" Harry started.

"Is an entirely different kettle of fish and not someone we should be worrying about losing. He's got to go out and do what he has to do and then he'll come back to us, like he always does," she said patting his hand, but Harry thought it sounded like she was trying to convince herself just as much as him.

They had plenty left to say but she smiled at him, he squeezed her fingers, and things were going to be ok for now.

"I think" said Harry slowly, "that we've got to be a bite more honest with each other."

Hermione nodded in agreement, "It just so happens that we've got a series of sleepovers all lined up and ready for us to pore out our little souls to each other."

"All right," Harry said flagging down a waiter and ordering two coffees, "why don't we start our opening up with you convincing me why I should give the evil snake twins a chance."

Hermione beamed.

"Well maybe you shouldn't," she said honestly, "but you won't regret it if you do. Draco might seem delicate but he's not at all, he's prone to temper tantrums and he's emotional but he's withstood a lot over the years and he's tough under that pretty exterior. Actually I think he puts his prissy dramatics on sometimes because he doesn't know how else to behave, not because he's actually that crazy. But he's very, very loyal as long as you give him the right amount of attention and he's actually pretty good about laughing at himself when need be."

"Really?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Oh Yes. Now Blaise on the other hand takes himself far too seriously and he's a class A asshole, the kind of man that repels people left and right. Even his own friends at times. But it's all a defence mechanism. He's had six stepfathers and all of them have only lasted a short period of time and it's just a natural reaction for him to be a jerk when people get too close, it keeps them at arms length and he never has to get hurt again. But in these very rare, very precious moments when he lets down his guard he can actually be kind of sweet and fiercely protective of his friends and even his jerkisms can be pretty funny really if you realize that he _always_ takes it too far but doesn't mean what he says."

She had this weird look on her face when she spoke about them and Harry wasn't entirely sure if he liked it because it was similar to the look she got on her face normally when she talked about him or Ron.

"It's entirely fresh living with them because they never pretend to be anything that they're not. Parkinson and Goyle and Fletchley and that entire gang are vile of course and always hanging about but I don't know. I've devised this game where I try to find at least one endearing quality in them and then I just hone in on that."

"Wow," was all Harry could seem to say, "You mean they're _human_?" his mock astonishment was rewarded with a little giggle.

"I don't want to sound rude Hermione, but why you? I thought you stood for everything they hated back in school."

"It was the Malfoy deal actually," she explained, "my Slytherin side came out to play if you'll recall and I actually won Draco´s respect" here she paused with a private wistful smile, "perhaps a little too much respect."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Nothing." She replied quickly in attempt to cover her slip of the tongue, because Harry definitely did not need to know about Draco's feelings for her.

"Listen, I can't promise that they won't bite because they're rather temperamental but if you can get through to them somehow... If you can get them to see past the green and maroon trappings and if you all really get to know each other you'll find out what you all really are."

"Which is?" Harry asked.

"Fundamentally, not evil people."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6- Draco's daddy wants a play date. **

Hermione and Harry returned home about an hour later to alarmingly loud raised voices coming from the flat.

Looking cautiously over her shoulder at Harry, Hermione turned the key in the lock and swung the door open to reveal a handful of large burly men standing at the end of the hall where it opened out into the kitchen and living room. Draco looked like he was trying not to cry and Blaise stood in front of him defiantly, wand raised (though half heartedly) glaring at the intruders.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked running down the hall and into the open living space with her wand raised.

"Draco's daddy sent us some _friends_ to convince Draco to go back to the manor," Blaise offered never taking his eyes off the face of the closest, burliest thug.

Hermione turned to face Draco and became immediately concerned by the anguished look on his face, frightened for a moment that he might just give up and go home after everything they'd been through.

It was because of this that she missed the looks of shock and terror on the faces of the six ugly men that resembled the gargoyles in front of the headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

"Get the bloody hell out of this house!" Harry thundered. Hermione snapped around to take in his furious expression, as he advanced on the gargoyles, wand raised. His face was like an electric storm with his green eyes flashing and that terrible, jagged scar. He was absolutely furious and extremely scary.

"That's Harry Potter," she heard one of the oafs say. That was all it took, a moment later there were six loud dissaparating pops and they were alone again. She guessed that being the vanquisher of the most notorious dark wizard in history had its intimidation perks.

"That's it!" Hermione hissed angrily, "I told you! Tomorrow I'm putting up some wards."

"My wand," Draco moaned from where he had sunk down on the coffee table, head in hands.

"What?" Hermione asked nearly falling over herself to get to him.

"They snapped Draco's wand," Blaise supplied numbly, standing there with a vague look on his face holding out two very distinctly separate pieces of Draco's familiar wand.

"Why?" Hermione shrieked, her heart constricting for poor Draco.

"Said I was no better than a muggle," Draco moaned pathetically into his hands.

Harry walked over to Blaise plucking the pieces from his hands and inspecting them carefully. Hermione looked on hopefully.

"It can't be fixed," Harry said, which he and Hermione both knew to be a lie but neither of them would ever admit that there was one wand in existence that could do the job.

"But I'll go see Olivander tomorrow if you like and he can make you a brand new one, especially for you," he said sympathetically.

Hermione knew that Harry was just trying to be kind, probably even sympathising with Draco because after all, he'd been there too. But she really thought he ought to know by now that when Draco was vulnerable he was like a kitten that's been dropped in a bath, he surfaced hissing and with his claws out.

But it was a mark of how serious the situation was that Draco ignored Harry's benevolent offer of service completely.

Draco simply stood up, stony faced and went to his room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7- The mysterious and legendary fight **

"I could take Potter," Blaise was saying the next day as he lounged on the couch whilr she fixed them some lunch.

"What?" Hermione asked, honestly perplexed.

"I could take him, in a fight I mean," he said solemnly.

"Okay," she said, eyeing him from her position in the kitchen.

Blaise wasn't exactly a runt; he was actually physically bigger than Harry. But where was this coming from anyway and why was she thinking about what it would look like to see them down on the rug, wrestling?

"You don't believe me," Blaise accused.

Hermione shrugged, "I don't care. Do you always think about the people around you in terms of whether or not you could beat them in a fight?"

"Sure," Blaise said.

"Even your friends?" she asked a little horrified.

"_Especially_ my friends. I could beat Draco in a pinch, though he has a mean elbow jab. I'd probably have a bit of difficulty with Miles but in the end I'm the only one of them that's ever been in a real fight."

"What about Goyle?" she asked morbidly curious despite herself.

"Well that's different, he doesn't count."

She padded over to him on the couch and sat down, offering him his panini and taking a bite out of her own.

"Do all men think this way?" she asked, chewing on a piece of corned beef.

"Absolutely," Blaise assured her.

"I don't know about Harry though, I mean did you see the way those thugs fled as soon as they saw how mad he looked last night."

"Yeah but that's different, he had a wand," Blaise was explaining, "In purely physical terms, I could beat him. With a wand, I'd run scared from the boy-who-killed-the-dark-lord-to-skulk-around-looking-tragic-and-depressed."

Hermione gave him a scathing look, "that's not nice, he's neither tragic nor depressed and he's doing fantastically well for himself considering everything he's been through."

Blaise shrugged, "I'd still beat him."

"Wait a second," Hermione replied, "When were you in a fight? Also, have you forgotten the fact that Harry and Draco have had several little tussles over the years?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "please, they were barely even scuffles much less tussles."

"Oh and your fight was proper I suppose?" she asked bemused.

"Legendary, some would say," he supplied.

Which was when she noticed how extremely late she was for class and it didn't matter really that she didn't have time to finish her lunch because Blaise´s arrogant boastings had put her off food anyway.

"Gotta go!" she said dumping her plate in his lap and springing from the couch, "I'm sure it was a lovely fight" and she disappeared.

Blaise felt very hurt.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8- An unexpected Olive Branch**

Draco was not in a very good mood. Not at all. The thing about being in a bad mood is that it's better when everyone else around you knows about it and are likewise miserable. The only way to do this is to complain loudly and to make them all miserable with your repetitive whining until their threshold is completely destroyed and they give you all of their attention. Making you feel slightly better, or at least not alone. Usually Hermione was very good at this. Draco loved whinging to Hermione.

The problem was, Draco didn't even feel like doing that today.

Instead he lay on his crumpled, mint green, Egyptian cotton sheets and stared listlessly out the window. Aware that his entire grasp on life was becoming fatefully sweaty. What was a wizard without a wand?

He'd been wandless before of course, but his mother had swiftly seen to it that he had hers. He briefly considered asking Hermione if he could borrow her wand but the thought of getting out of bed and expending energy on looking even more pathetic and vulnerable than he already was even more miserable. He couldn't even flu his parents and demand that they have a new one made for him because he knew that this was exactly what they desired and expected.

And then came a gentle tapping on his bedroom door.

Probably Blaise, Draco thought.

"Come in," he rasped, finding that even using the small amount of energy to talk was difficult and miserable.

The door creaked open slowly; a mess of particularly loathsome black hair and spectacles peeked around the door at him.

Draco shot up in bed, taking the sheets with him and wrapping them around his naked chest.

It was an instinctual response. Potter was looking at him like he was disturbed in the head.

Draco let the sheets drop back to the bed, too miserable to care.

"Go away Potter," he said without his usual dosage of menace and sting.

"I've actually got a bit of a gift for you or something Malfoy," Potter replied with a sheepish grin.

Draco couldn't even muster the strength to want to wipe the grin of his face with a few choice spells. Oh god, spells! It was just all too miserable being wandless.

"Piss off," he said half-heartedly and then flopped back down on the bed.

"You'll like it, I promise," Potter tried again. Persistent bastard.

"Why the hell would I want anything from you?"

And then Potter had the gall to push the door open further and walk right into his room!

"GET OUT!" Draco yelled, surprised at his own vigour. But really, he did not want his space to be infected in such an impertinent manner.

"Cut the dramatics Malfoy, just take the bloody box," and Potter shoved a small, intricately engraved wooden box onto the bed next to Draco's head.

"I thought it was time you had this back, had to pull a few strings to get it too- not that you care. But well, I... err, Hermione said that you'd appreciate it and I do know what it's like to have your wand broken."

Despite himself, Draco couldn't help but reach out and run a long finger down the side of the little box until it hit a small silver clasp. He looked up at Potter with distrust and loathing.

"This better be what I think it is, this better not be some stupid prank," he warned.

Potter shrugged, again with the stupid sheepish smile.

"I'm not that stupid, I'm on your territory remember?"

He had a point. Draco flicked the little clasp with his finger and then pushed the lid up. On a bed of satin inside sat his old school wand, still in perfect condition. The wand that vanquished the Dark Lord.

"I thought they were displaying this at the memorial," Draco said in quiet awe and surprise.

"They were," Potter replied, "but they couldn't exactly argue with me when I told them that the true owner of the wand needed it back."

Draco shuddered involuntarily, he felt it run down his spine and also felt goose bumps forming all over his skin. Just being in the presence of the wand that had killed the Dark Lord felt eerie to him, even if it was his wand technically. He hoped Potter didn't notice.

"It won't work for me now you know," Draco said, though not totally ungraciously, "you won it from me, remember?"

Potter nodded thoughtfully, "Yes, I thought about that. Here," and he took his very own wand out of his pocket and was trying to hand it to Draco.

Draco recoiled, "What the hell?"

Potter shrugged unconcerned and tried to foist the wand on him once again without another word. Didn't he realize how significant the act of surrendering ones wand was? If they were wolves, Potter would totally be exposing his neck to the superior wolf right now. That would mean that he, Draco, was the alpha wolf! Was Potter trying to cede dominance to him?

"Just take my wand and I'll take yours and then you can disarm me," Potter finally explained, somewhat exasperated by Draco's lack of response and silent, panicky musings.

Draco thought that made a lot more sense than his stupid wolf analogy's.

"Alright," he said and reluctantly took Potter proffered wand.

"Okay," Potter said and then he took the wand out of the box and pointed it at Draco's face,

"No funny business Malfoy, I don't want to have to defend myself against my own wand."

Draco sat up purposefully. Potter's wand felt strange in his hand but it was not as alien as he would have suspected. He was sure he could manage a simple expelliarmus with this wand, he felt the magic tingling in his fingertips.

"Wait!" Potter interrupted just as he felt the spell coming to the tip of his tongue, "is it okay if we use magic in here?"

Draco nodded, "We've used vacuum spells in all of the rooms that don't have electrical appliances. No magic escapes to mess with the muggle stuff."

Potter nodded and then gave him a look that seemed to say, well- what are you waiting for?

Draco didn't wait.

"Expelliarmus," he said and Potter's wand gave a tiny jerk and then his own wand was flying out of Potter's hand towards him and he caught it neatly with his left hand.

"My wand please," Potter said hand outstretched, trusting.

Every fibre of Draco's being wanted to hex him good now while he had the chance. Every ounce of magic in him pleaded with his senses to do that which he so desperately wanted to do.

Only the thought of Hermione's retribution was enough to stay his hand. It was a struggle though.

"Here," he said grudgingly and tossed Potter's wand back at him with a little extra force for good measure.

Potter nodded once and then turned to leave the room, "should work now," he tossed over his shoulder.

Draco took his wand and gave it an experimental swish, a shower of golden sparks in the shape of goldfish poured from the end. It was delightful. This wand was even better than the one that was broken.

"Potter!" Draco called just as his loathsome head was disappearing out the door.

Potter turned and looked at him quizzically.

"Thanks I guess," Draco said almost unable to believe that the words were actually spewing from his mouth.

Potter looked at him disbelieving and then shrugged nonchalantly, "you're welcome," he said graciously and then he shut Draco's door for him.

If it were Draco, he would lord the little favour over Draco for a century.

Potter was too high and mighty for that.

How he hated Potter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9- Boomslang Skin**

"Let the record show that it was all Potter's fault!" Draco proclaimed.

"Nyeh...wah? WHAT?" Harry spluttered.

"It was all his devious doing, wasn't it Blaise? He peer pressured us into taking it, didn't he Blaise?" Draco said placing a pale hand on Harry's chest and pushing him back down into the bean bag as he struggled to get up.

"Absolutely," Blaise concurred, "I feel taken advantage of."

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes.

"God you two talk a lot of crap. Clean the lounge. Harry, you come with me." she ordered.

Blaise stared at her imperiously, "Potter should help too Hermione".

"Was not!" Harry shot pathetically.

"Was not what Harry?" Hermione asked, looking for her friend with real concern for the first time since she had walked in the door to find her flatmates had turned her lounge room into some kind of arena and.... sumo wrestling had somehow entered the picture. Well, Draco and Blaise had been sumo wrestling and Harry had been sitting in the bean bag looking dazed wearing a large sombrero.

"Whaat?" Harry slurred, tilting slightly in the beanbag until he was precariously close to toppling on his side.

"Oh for god's sake," snapped Hermione, "this is all your fault boys!"

She marched around the couch and grabbed Harry firmly by the elbow and hauled him to his feet. His sombrero fell off onto the floor.

"I don't care what you do in your own home privately, but somehow I highly doubt Harry voluntarily imbibed that much boomslang skin!" she marched past the guilty pair, dragging a stumbling Harry with her.

Once they were down the hall and in her room she calmly pushed Harry in the direction of his make-shift bed and closed the door. Then she went over to her cupboard and rummaged around for her potions kit.

This apparently was hilarious according to Harry who began to giggle madly, flopping back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling.

"We should enchant your ceiling like Hogwarts," he said after a moment and to Hermione's alarm pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the roof, "it would be like, really amazing."

"Woah!" She said, finally finding the vial she was looking for and rushing over to him, "Not so fast Harry, take this first".

He did so without even a hint of a question. She had trained him well.

He winced at the bitterness as it hit his tongue but he managed to empty the entirety of the minty blue contents into his mouth.

"Sobriety potion," he said after a moments coughing and spluttering, "always pleasant".

"What the hell were you thinking? Please tell me you didn't actually smoke that poison with them!" Hermione accused, grabbing the empty vial from his hand and then pulling her wand out she cast a charm to sterilize it.

"God no, with them? And I'm an Auror remember!"

"So how did you end up that high?"

Harry frowned, "I can't be sure, but they offered me some suspicious cookies"

Hermione arched an eyebrow, "You took cookies... from Slytherins? Slytherins that, may I add, openly hate you."

Harry coloured, "I was tired and hungry after work."

Hermione gave him a look that almost said, 'well you deserved what you got for being so stupid'.

"Those bastards! Do they do that stuff often?" Harry said at once serious and assuming his Auror tone of authority.

"Oh come on Harry, you can't dob them in for misuse," she replied.

"I wasn't planning on it," he said, though the guilty slant to his mouth said otherwise.

"They don't do it too often; frankly I don't understand the appeal," Hermione said.

Harry shrugged, "I will admit, it wasn't totally without its appeal. But it's dangerous when magic is involved".

"It's poison. Full stop," Hermione replied.

"Well, but so is fire whiskey and you don't mind a drop of that," Harry pointed out.

"That's totally different!" Hermione retorted, "It's legal for one!"

"Ingesting boomslang skin is not technically illegal Hermione"

"So what were you momentarily planning on dobbing them in for?"

He paused, defensive -"You need a license to possess it and I highly doubt they have one."

"Hang on. How did we manage to go from you condemning the boys for tricking you into getting high to you defending the misuse of boomslang skin?"

Harry spluttered, "That's not what I was doing!"

"I think you liked it a little too much," Hermione accused, waggling a finger at him.

Harry went even redder, "Don't be ridiculous."

Hermione thought that perhaps Harry was the worst liar in the world.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10- What Blaise, Draco and Harry Did **

"Do you know what would be hilarious?" Blaise had said the afternoon before Hermione had come home to find Harry Potter high on boomslang skin.

"What?" Draco asked casually flicking through a copy of Witch Weekly Pansy had lent him.

"If we got Potter to imbibe like, a lot of boomslang skin."

Draco looked up from the magazine, mouth agape, a look of wonder on his face, "that's brilliant!"

Two hours later and Harry was bone tired after a thirteen hour shift on the streets. He'd come back to the flat, expecting to find it empty and everyone in class but instead he'd been greeted practically at the door by the two evil twins.

He should have known something was up when they didn't immediately draw their wands on him without Hermione there to protect him.

He definitely should have known something was wrong when they offered him some cookies and smiled, almost pleasantly.

But Harry was tired and the cookies smelt good and he was just going to have one and then collapse in Hermione's bed while she was at her cafe job on campus.

"Go on," Draco urged.

"Try one," Blaise continued, "we were baking all afternoon."

Well, that was good enough for Harry. Perhaps Malfoy was trying to be nice to him because he got his old wand back. He took an innocuous looking cookie from the plate and shoved half of it his mouth.

"Thanks," he mumbled, mouth full of delicious baked goods.

"You're welcome," Blaise said, almost sweetly.

Harry's stomach dropped just a little. He told himself he was being paranoid- after all, Hermione had told him to give these guys a chance.

"You didn't poison them right?" he asked just in case, "cause you know Hermione would be furious if you killed me."

Draco and Blaise laughed as if he'd just made the funniest joke in the world.

"Oh Potter," Blaise said good naturedly, going so far as to pat him once on the back, "lighten up" he continued and then they walked past him into the lounge.

Harry walked into Hermione's room and dropped his bag. Her bed was looking rather inviting but he was equally torn between seeing to his hunger and sleeping. Hermione had said that he was welcome to anything on her shelf of the pantry. Maybe he could have a quick bowl of cereal followed by a nap in Hermione's comfy bed. It was the first time he'd been in the flat without her so he was still a little hesitant about making himself at home. But really, she had said it was fine if he went and helped himself to her food- what could the Slytherin miscreants do to him?

He lumbered out of her room and down the hall towards the lounge. With each step he was reminded of how tired he was.

Zabini and Malfoy were in their customary place on the lounge room floor sprawled out in beanbags playing Mario Kart and carrying on a hushed conversation. When he entered the room they were ominously quiet and a little too focused on the game.

"I'm just getting some food," Harry mumbled, stalking past them into the kitchen.

"Sure thing Potter," Malfoy said cheerfully, smirking up at him, "Gee, you look mighty tired."

Harry shrugged, "It was a long shift."

He walked over to the pantry and began to rummage through the contents on Hermione's shelf. She had a lot of rubbish, healthy food but her one concession was some mildly sugary cereal. Probably the kind of thing she was never allowed to have as a child. A guilty pleasure.

He pulled the box out and then grabbed some milk from the fridge and poured himself a bowl.

Zabini and Malfoy shot him not so covert looks over their shoulders.

He took a bite of cereal. It was the best damn cereal he had ever tasted. It was like there was an explosion of flavour in his mouth. He took another bite.

"Oh my god," he moaned.

If flavours were colours a starburst of rainbows was exploding on his tongue. He took another bite and then another in quick succession, slopping some milk down his shirt.

"Good cereal?" Blaise asked, grinning widely.

"You've got to try this," Harry said, enthused.

Zabini and Malfoy cracked up for some reason. Harry saw their laughing faces and he couldn't help but feel a bit light hearted himself. He chuckled along with them.

"Another cookie Potter?" Draco asked, getting up and wafting the plate right under his nose.

"Don't mind if I do," Harry said, taking another.

"Oh take two," Blaise insisted, "We've already eaten plenty."

"Okay, but save some for Hermione," Harry reminded.

Blaise and Draco shared a significant look, "Oh she doesn't like this kind of cookie."

Harry shrugged and took another.

After that, things got much less coherent for him.

He could remember Zabini and Malfoy asking him to join them at playing Mario Kart and when he'd won he distinctly remembered Zabini challenging him to a round of sumo wrestling. But there were vague imagesof a Peruvian llama named Pablo that didn't seem to fit. He knew that wrestling with other men in loincloths was probably not what he normally would have considered normal activity and he knew too that it was extremely amazing that he had a tongue and that tongues were not only good for talking but for licking and eating and poking out at people too. In fact, how amazing was jelly?

"You're not so bad when you're off your face Potter," Zabini commented after one particularly impassioned round of sumo during which Harry had felt the need to stop and recite some impromptu poetry to his new friend Pablo.

"We should do this every day," Harry agreed.

"Here. Have another cookie," said Draco and then he proceeded to burst into a fit of giggles that sounded like bells ringing in Harry's ears and in the tiny but spacious cathedral in his head.

After that, he couldn't remember much at all.

AN: Boomslang skin is fictitious. However, if it were real I would not endorse the improper use of it. Nor would I endorse the improper use of any plant, animal or thing :)


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11- Pugilistic Parkinson pays a visit

Pansy tried to avoid going to Draco's apartment as much as she possibly could. She did this because it reminded her that her erstwhile best friend had recently become deranged and moved in with Granger. As in Gryffindor Granger... as in the swamp creature from the deep with buck teeth, disastrous hair and all the answers.

Pansy shuddered openly thinking about how unattractive Granger was.

Worst of all, Pansy was beginning to suspect that Draco not only _liked_ the thing but was beginning to become unhealthily attached.

She'd indulged his flippant whims long enough- if he wouldn't do it, she would have to put his little pet down. Really, she'd be doing the world a favour- not just Draco.

Blaise complicated things though. Blaise seemed to like Granger too. Pansy put it down to Boomslangskin induced psychosis. But still, Blaise wasn't the kind of person Pansy wanted to get on the wrong side of. She'd done it before and barely lived to tell the tale after the very public revenge he'd wreaked.

It was with this very humiliating thought that she found herself face to face with the very blue door of what Blaise and Draco seemed to affectionately term 'The Den of Maleficence'. Apparently it was a Potter reference, Pansy didn't want to know.

She wrapped smartly on the door, taking care to avoid chipping her ruby red nails.

It took a long moment during which Pansy tried to restrain an eye roll. Eventually she heard some muffled activity and then the door opened.

She came face to face with a hard, lean chest. A hard lean chest and pecs. A hard lean chest and pecs... and biceps.

Oh not to be mistaken, Pansy was not looking appreciatively at the body of some Adonis on steroids. She was not the kind of girl that went in for that. Those kinds of muscles never looked good in clothes. She likes the wiry but fit type of body that she was being presented with. That is, she liked the body until her eyes inevitably raised to the head attached.

Green eyes, round glasses, nasty scar and greasy bed hair.

Oh god, she'd just given Potter a very indiscreet once over.

Before she could even do so much as feign a look of disgust, he had slammed the door in her face. Really, it was a little disorienting. First she found herself attracted to possibly the most annoying person on the face of the planet and then she had a door slammed in her face so hard that she was worried the gust of wind that had preceded the actual sound of the slamming of the door might have mussed up her hair.

This time she did roll her eyes. Then she knocked again, this time with more vigour.

She heard a very impolite word muttered from behind the door and then a scuffle. Finally the blue door opened once more.

This time it was the swamp creature.

"Oh, come on in Parkinson- don't mind Harry. I'm afraid Blaise is out but Draco's skulking around in the kitchen trying to guilt people into working the toaster for him."

Pansy resisted the urge to flick Granger in the nose and tell her to shut up. Instead she waltzed past her haughtily down the hall and into the lounge.

Granger didn't follow, she did however huff irritably.

Draco was indeed in the kitchen and looking rather morose.

"Pansy!" he greeted, his eyes lighting up, "Do you know how to work a toaster?"

Pansy stopped dead in her tracks, her eyebrows rising sky high, "God no! Don't you have people to do that for you?"

Draco heaved a dramatic sigh, "I've been cut off- remember? Besides, Hermione would never allow it."

Pansy felt her eye twitch.

"Oh well, dear Hermione- wouldn't want to upset her, would we Draco?" she smiled her best sickly sweet smile.

Draco scowled.

"What do you want Pan?"

"What I want to know right now is," Pansy said taking a seat on the kitchen table and crossing her long, smooth legs, "why Potter answered the door when I knocked?"

She also mentally added, and why is he so delectable looking nowadays?

"Oh, that," Draco said darkly, his eyes narrowing, "He's a house guest. His house is apparently inhospitable now or something. Anyway, I think he's just here to spy on us."

Pansy shrugged, "It's probably unlikely that he would have gone to all that effort to keep you out of Azkaban just to later spy on you to try to put you in there."

"No, no," Draco replied shaking his head vehemently, "he's spying for Weasley."

"Oh," Pansy replied, "well in that case. Yes that's highly likely."

She picked up a shiny silver spoon from the table and checked her reflection, smacking her bright red lips for effect. She ran a hand through a less than dead-straight portion of her silky, black bob and smoothed it out. Perfection.

"What are you really here for?" Draco asked, "Are you here to take me out to lunch?" he added hopefully.

Pansy rolled her eyes, "Oh, if you insist."

Draco cheered happily and threw himself on her, squeezing her.

"God Draco, do they not feed you here?"

"Not Castrilano's anyway," he hinted.

Pansy huffed, "We're going to have to flu. I don't want to get soot all over my new dress."

"It's a fabulous dress Pan, really. Think of the Martini's if you won't think of the food!"

Well... that was a good point.

"Oh all right," she said with a long suffering sigh, "Shall we wait for Blaise?"

Draco shook his head, "He's working on an assignment at uni. Besides, I think he's trying for one last hook up with the Patil girl. Break up sex, you know- he can never resist."

Pansy shuddered, "That's disgusting."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "You don't like break up sex?"

"God no," Pansy said, "I love break up sex. I don't like Patil!"

He shrugged, "She's pretty hot though, if you can get past the fact that she was a Gryffindor."

"Which evidently you can," Pansy said frowning, "because you live with Queen Beaver."

"Don't start Pansy," Draco warned.

Well, she wouldn't because it made her sick but perhaps she could give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Potter's turned into quite the man," she simpered.

Draco's eyes bulged a little, "Pansy, that's disgusting."

"No really," she continued evilly, "take away those horrid glasses and I could see what everyone is going on about. Have you _seen_ his body? I wonder how much training they must have to do to become Aurors."

Draco looked like he was about to wretch, "Please stop."

Pansy didn't want to- a) because she loved teasing Draco and b) because she found she didn't want to.

"Don't you think he's a little dangerous looking nowadays? Though, that could just be because he killed You-know-who."

"No," Draco snapped, "I don't think so. Nor do I care."

Pansy shrugged, "I'm just saying..."

"Well you can stop saying whatever it is you were just going to say," another voice said.

They spun around.

Oh horror, it was Potter.

He was glaring at Pansy with undisclosed hatred, hatred that seemed to burn to the very core of his being.

"You make me sick Parkinson," he growled, his eyes narrowed and glinting dangerously, "didn't you once try to sell me to the Dark Lord?"

His presence was in one word- intimidating. He was clenching his fists tightly, staring down at her from across the room and she could feel the energy reverberating off of him from where she sat.

"Don't ever come near me, ever again," Potter warned with a sharp edge to his voice that promised that he was dead serious.

Then he spun on his heel and stormed out of the lounge room.

"Merlins balls," Draco whispered, "I think he hates you even more than he hates me."

Pansy blinked once.

"You might be right."

She was tingling all over and not in a bad way.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN:**_Thank you: readerforlife, ebe04, Tiongy5, HeartForSoul, Kat, emily02, Kamalers, Kacysparrow, Savannah, Conquistador Imp, Black Mirror and Dagmara for your very kind and much appreciated reviews. Thanks to all for your fav's or alerts. Judging by the amount of hits this fic is getting it's being read, which does make me happy. It does not however, necessarily mean that I will subconsciously improve on the sloppiness of my writing so I apologize in advance for that :P _

**Chapter 12- Your Eternal Slave, Ronald**

_Dearest Hermione,_

_Already it has been over a month since I last saw your fair face and though my life here is good with my charming and talented brother Charlie Weasley, it feels as though time has slowed to an agonizing pace without you. I dread waking up in the morning as I dread the vicious liquid fire of the angry Hungarian Horntail. I think of your beautiful eyes as I fall asleep at night. I make your image out in the stars above and I long to kiss your luscious lips. Only one more month until we are reunited my love._

_Your eternal slave,_

_Ronald _

_p.s. My dashing brother Charlie also says hello._

Hermione had to stop herself from dropping the parchment in shock, she grasped at one rough edge before it could flutter out of her fingers and stared down at it as if it would at any moment transform into something that made a little more sense.

What the hell was Ron playing at?

"Harry did you say anything about me to Ron?" she asked, turning to look at her friend who was sprawled on the couch watching a daytime soapie.

"No, why?"

She looked uncomfortable.

"I think he's been trying to be romantic of late, writing love letters... sure you didn't tell him to put in a bit of effort?"

"No, no way!"

"hmm"

"Isn't that a good thing? That he's doing it of his own volition."

"Maybe."

"But?"

"I don't know. It's nice but it kind of feels insincere. It's like someone's been writing them for him."

"Like who?"

"I have no idea," she replied, frowning.

Harry looked up at her, flashing a lopsided grin, "Go on then, you going to read it out?"

Hermione flushed, "That wouldn't be very nice."

She was remembering back to a very recent incident when she had invaded Draco's privacy and was loathe to repeat the same shocking err in judgement.

"Oh come on," Harry wheedled, "It's Ron. He's probably copying whole sentences out of witch weekly or something."

Hermione frowned deeply. Harry winced.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound as bad as that."

"No that's not it," Hermione reassured, "I'd almost feel happy if that's what I thought he was doing. For Ron that _is_ romantic. But I just... I feel like he's not even the one responsible for these letters."

Harry shrugged, "Things have been a little bit strained between you two. Perhaps he's just trying to put in a bit of extra effort. Cut the man some slack Hermione."

She cleared her throat, holding the letter up beneath her nose to make out the messy sprawl of words across the page.

"Dearest Hermione," she read aloud.

Harry guffawed.

"Since when have you ever known Ron to call me dearest?" she asked, an eyebrow arched.

Harry shrugged, "it's a cute endearment. He's probably trying something new to get back in your good books after taking off like that on a whim for two and a half months."

Hermione was not buying it.

"Harry, he signed it: Your eternal slave, Ronald."

"Merlin!" Harry breathed, his eyes going wide.

They stared at each other for a moment, each silently willing themself not to laugh.

Harry broke down into deep chuckles first and Hermione soon followed suit.

"He must be in a lot of trouble," Harry gasped out after the laughter began to subside.

Hermione shook her head, picking up the letter to take with her as she went to sit on the couch beside Harry.

"Not _this_ much trouble," Hermione replied, handing Harry the letter silently.

He read it quickly, a feint blush creeping up over his cheeks- probably as he read the line about wanting to kiss Hermione's luscious lips. She wanted to roll her eyes at his typical brotherliness.

"You're right Hermione, this doesn't read like Ron," Harry conceded.

"Yes, it doesn't even read like Ron with liberal help. But who?"

"Who what?" Draco asked coming out of his room and rubbing sulkily at his eyes like a little furry animal. He stopped by the couch and blinked at them, staring blearily at the television with sleepy eyes.

"Oh, my show's on."

He flipped over the back of the couch lazily and into the space between Hermione and Harry, immediately laying a heavy head on Hermione's shoulder and poking Harry rudely in the leg with one of his feet.

"Potter's still here," he said between a series of yawns into Hermione's shoulder. Even sleep addled as he was, his displeasure at this fact was still apparent.

"Quite," she replied sullenly and they lapsed into silence.

"Who what?" Draco finally repeated again, his eyes still riveted on the small town drama on the screen.

"Never mind Draco," Hermione said, patting him good naturedly on the arm.

"No, go on. Tell me."

"It's nothing," Harry replied on Hermione's behalf.

Draco glared at him, "I was talking to Hermione, Potter."

"It's really nothing Draco," she replied kindly.

"So Potter can know and I can't?" he asked, indignation creeping into his voice.

"No, it's not that..." Hermione started.

"Yes it is," Harry interjected, "that's exactly how it is Malfoy. It was a conversation that we were having before we were rudely interrupted."

"Harry!" Hermione scolded, "This is Draco's home."

"Yeah Potter," Draco said peeking out waspishly at Harry from Hermione's shoulder, "this is my home."

Harry shrugged, "Fine, tell him. See if I care. I just thought you wouldn't feel comfortable talking about your relationship with Ron around the Slytherins."

Draco snorted, "Why? Cause Slytherins can't have relationships?"

"No," Harry replied angrily, "because Slytherin's hate Weasleys."

"That's true," Draco conceded, snuggling further into Hermione's side.

"Look, it's just about a letter that Ron sent me. I don't think he actually wrote it, though, it's in his handwriting," Hermione explained.

"Did you let Potter read this letter?" Draco accused.

Hermione smiled sheepishly, "Well, I don't think it's actually from Ron so..."

Draco silently held out his hand.

"Hermione, no!" Harry ordered.

"Harry, you said it yourself. There is no way Ron wrote this letter, it's not really so bad if it wasn't even written by him," Hermione rationalized, handing the parchment over to Draco.

"We don't _know_ that he didn't write it," Harry said stormily, his eyes narrowed at her with displeasure.

"Oh, I do," she said as Draco greedily scanned the note.

"So do I," Draco piped up after a moment, "It was that Charlie bloke."

Hermione and Harry gasped simultaneously. Of course!

"It's easy to tell you see," Draco explained, "he talks about himself an awful lot. It's what I'd do if I was writing to a pretty witch on my brother's behalf."

"Of course you would," Hermione replied indulgently rolling her eyes.

"Wait, isn't that a little low Hermione? Ron got Charlie to write you a letter?" Harry asked, shocked.

And suddenly Hermione had transferred from light-hearted amusement to anger in a mood-swing as quick as a flash of lightning.

In fact, she was furious!

"How dare he!" she roiled.

She felt her blood pressure rising, her anger coming on thick, fast and unexpectedly like a flash flood.

"What a low thing to do! Couldn't even write me a letter himself!"

She could imagine that her face was growing steadily red, that her eyes were blazing with pent up anger and unreleased magic. How she longed to conjure up a couple of canaries and send them pelting towards Romania.

"Calm down Hermione! I didn't mean it!" Harry pleaded, alarmed, "It's Ron! You know him; Charlie probably talked him into it."

"I think you should write him a strongly worded letter in reply," Draco urged, a little too much eagerness in his face.

But, it was a very good idea.

"That's exactly what I shall do!" She said emphatically, jumping to her feet, "what a blatant lack of respect!" she huffed.

"You are so right," Draco said, "He obviously has no concern for your feelings."

Harry glared daggers at him.

"No, no wait," Draco said jumping up and really getting into the swing of flings, "a Howler!" he said gesturing grandly.

Yes!

Hermione nodded stiffly. She marched over to the kitchen counter and picked up the writing pad they kept for grocery lists. Tearing a piece off she picked up a pen and began to write.

_Dearest Ronald,_

_As far as I'm concerned, a month is not long enough time to have been away from you. To think that you couldn't even be bothered to write me a letter yourself! How pathetic. What on earth were you thinking? That Charlie's charms would make all of our problems go away? Well I want you to know that not only was that the worst love letter I have ever read, it was still too good for me to ever for one second believe that it was you who wrote it. You have the emotional range of a teaspoon and the romantic inclination of a nit._

_Sincerely in anger,_

_Hermione Granger_

With a growl of fury she folded the paper in half and placed it on the counter and then, pulling her wand from her pocket, she tapped it once and whispered an incantation and the letter folded itself neatly turning a vibrant shade of red. Carefully she wrote Ron's name and address on the front of the letter.

"Harry, I need to borrow Henry," Hermione said, more like an order than a request.

"No, you can't use my owl!" Harry retorted, horrified.

"You can use Thaddeus!" Draco offered helpfully and then he gave a sharp piercing whistle.

Draco's eagle owl swooped into the room in seconds.

Hermione had her howler fastened to his leg and Thaddeus was out the window in minutes.

Another minute later and Hermione was still standing in the kitchen, the colour slowly draining from her face.

Harry was looking like he'd swallowed a toad. Draco was smiling like it was Christmas. These things were never a good sign.

Writing the letter had been cathartic. Sending the howler had been...

Had she made a mistake? Acted too quickly? Where had that anger come from?

She was shocked at her own irrational, emotional response.

What had she done?


	13. Chapter 13

_**AN:**__ Sorry for the big break between updates. Had a bit of stuff going down and I found this chapter difficult to write. Never mind though because I wrote the next one weeks ago! Thanks to all my reviewers and especially those of you who have been sticking by this thing for quite a while now. Sorry! I'll try to be better at updating, I promise._

**Chapter 13- An Over-Reaction**

Hermione awoke the next morning with a sense of foreboding. She got up, tripped over Harry in the process and stumbled toward the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. She found it difficult to recall exactly why she should be feeling anxious.

There was a parchment envelope attached to a barn owl, sitting on the bench waiting for her as she entered the kitchen.

Then it finally hit her- the howler!

It was certainly enough to jolt her from her sleepy reverie. With an almost snarl, she lurched for the owl. The owl, seeing this, began to protest with almost comical enthusiasm. It was no match for _her_ however and several loose feathers later Hermione had the letter in hand without so much as a biscuit lost to bribery.

She held the thick parchment in her hand and watched the disgruntled owl hurtling for the window.

The envelope was covered in familiar writing.

With a deep breath, she ripped it open.

The letter consisted of just four words in his messy scrawl. Four words of such universal significance that they have the power to send a shiver down the spine of any person of a mature age who hears them.

'**We need to talk.'**

Ron had never spoken truer words and still the feeling of sinking despair would not neglect her. She was reaping that which she had sewn of course, but the question remained: why had she done it?

This thought completely occupied her mind. She stared aimlessly at the wall trying to sort through the mess her life was becoming. The worst thought was that she had to truthfully admit that perhaps she'd been privately fuelling this mess for months.

"...Hermione?" a voice shocked her out of her temporary state of paralysed horror.

"What?" she snapped, spinning around to glare at the interrupting Spaniard.

"Yeesh..." he said, looking adorably mussed in his pyjamas, "I just wanted to see if you're okay. You look like shit. Did someone run over that fowl cat of yours?"

Hermione simply blinked at him, "What?"

"The cat, is it dead?" He clarified.

"No!" she replied horrified, "I was... I was a thousand miles away. Or at least I will be I fear, in Romania in fact." She paused in reflection, her lips turning down into a definitive frown, "This weekend."

"Oh," Blaise said eyeing the letter still clasped in her hand, "Is that an order or a request?"

"That's a necessity and implied imperative."

He raised an eyebrow, "Well if we're speaking in grammatical terms then, are we talking about your relationship with the Weasley in the subjunctive mood here?"

Hermione gave a stiff nod, "My relationship has officially moved into the territory of the subjunctive- the realm of possibility rather than certainty."

Blaise blinked slowly, looking for all intents like a giant, caramel coloured bird.

"That's too bad," he said finally and the he pushed past her into the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal.

Hermione moved zombie like to the couch and sank into it, putting her face in her hands.

"It'll be okay, chin up Granger," Blaise said coming to sit by her on the couch after a minute with his cereal.

"What makes you say that?" she mumbled, face still buried in her palms.

"He's not foolish enough to risk losing you just because of some silly howler. Which I'll have you know, by the way, was thoroughly deserved."

Hermione felt a bit like sobbing. He'd probably just tease her if she did though, she'd have to save it for later. Perhaps she'd wait till Harry was around. Harry was the most likely to at least rub her back and pretend to be sympathetic, albeit awkwardly.

"That's nice of you to say," She finally choked out, "but I'm not entirely sure that's true."

"What? That he's a fool? Oh that's definitely true," Blaise replied, smiling at her and, to her great surprise, casually laying a palm on her arm and rubbing up and down gently. Twice.

She couldn't help letting a few tears leak out, he was rubbing her arm for Merlin's sake. That was pretty much as good as a license to be girly and emotional.

"No, the part about the howler being justifiable. I think I really screwed this thing up Blaise."

He gave her a long, searching look and then calmly leaned forward to place his bowl of cereal on the coffee table. Then he turned to her, all sympathy departed from his features and replaced with seriousness.

"Hermione, we don't usually do things without good reason... Even if it's only our subconscious that's forcing us to act."

She knew what he was implying but quite frankly, she wasn't ready to face that just yet.

"I'm going to Romania on the weekend," she said, sniffing defiantly.

Blaise shrugged nonchalantly, "fine."

He leant over and picked up his cereal bowl and then casually switched on the television and proceeded to ignore her as she continued to stare at him, waiting for something more.

She thought his shoulders might have sagged a little.

But it was probably just her imagination.


	14. Chapter 14

_**AN:**__ As always thanks to the reviewers. You guys spur me on and remind me to update._

**Chapter 14- Harry At Their Mercy**

Hermione packed her bags and left for Romania the next day, looking a bit green around the gills and anxious.

Harry felt a bit that way too and not just because he felt it was likely that he was about to experience some extreme turbulence in best-friend-land but also because he had just that morning been informed by the work-men that it would take a couple of months to get Grimmauld place back to safe and liveable standard. In fact, it had gotten him thinking about making some long overdue renovations. That would mean up to 6 months or more out of the house but it seemed like the right time to do it. Things were going well with he and Ginny and once she was more settled into her Quidditch career well... let's just say that Harry would be asking for her input on the renovations.

So why did this make him anxious?

He was going to be stuck in the Den of Maleficience for an entire weekend without Hermione's protection. Worse, he would have to be nice to the Slytherins if he wanted to keep the patch of Hermione's bedroom floor that he was currently calling his own. He needed that floor space; he had nowhere else to go. He doubted Molly would be too happy about his staying at the Burrow while Ginny was living there- they were unmarried and Molly was a bit traditional in that way. He'd stayed at the twins for one night after a bender once and woken up blue. Also, he was enjoying having Hermione back in his life every day after such a long, tension filled period where they hadn't been seeing much of each other.

Still, the weekend would be an anxious time. Hermione had thoroughly warned them all to play nice or face her wrath. Harry could only hope the Slytherin's would take her warning as seriously as he intended to.

On this he mused as he listened at the bedroom door. There was no sign of movement in the kitchen- the coast was clear.

Employing his Auror stealth training, he crept down the hall, determined not to make the hostiles aware of his presence.

He made it to the living-area without detection and then almost smacked himself in the head for forgetting that he owned an invisibility cloak. Well, too late.

He crept into the kitchen and ever so quietly went about fixing himself some lunch.

"Potter!" a familiar whiny voice accused.

"Malfoy," Harry returned with a resigned sigh.

"Bugger off already," Malfoy said advancing on Harry with his arms crossed over his chest and a menacing scowl in place on his face. It was rather less intimidating than he'd remembered it being at school. Quite possibly because Crabbe and Goyle were noticeably absent from Malfoy's flanks.

"We don't want you here," Malfoy continued.

"Hermione does," Harry pointed out; rinsing a buttery knife he'd employed to make himself a sandwich.

"She's not here, is she?" Malfoy retorted, looking bitter.

Harry knew that Malfoy was not happy that Hermione was going all the way to Romania to sort things out with Ron. He rather suspected that Malfoy privately wished that Hermione would forget about Ron altogether and develop a romantic inclination towards ferrets.

He snorted at the thought, choking a little bit on his tuna sandwich.

Malfoy's sneer of disdain morphed into a sneer of disgust.

"I thought you had a girlfriend, or did the Weaslette dump you and move on to the next victim?"

Harry's free hand tightened into a fist and itched to be planted in Malfoy's face.

"She's at Quidditch camp actually, training for the Harpies," he ground out, trying to restrain his temper. It wouldn't do to break the nose of one of Hermione's favourite pets. She'd look upon it as she would if someone were to pull Crookshanks tale in all probability. Harry knew better than to pull Crookshanks tale.

"Easy Potter," Malfoy warned unnecessarily, "You don't want Hermione to flay us alive, do you? I simply was wondering why you persist in mooching off of us all."

Harry scoffed, "I'm paying a fifth of the rent and I don't even have my own room. _You're_ better off while I'm here."

Draco rolled his eyes, "I'd prefer you to be gone."

"Too bad," Harry retorted, "because I'm staying."

Harry could see that Malfoy was about to throw some inane insult his way but he was interrupted by the entrance of Zabini.

"Draco," Zabini greeted, he ignored Harry's presence all together.

Harry didn't really know how to take Zabini. He was less openly hostile than Malfoy which made him harder for Harry to interact with. At least with Draco he could casually trade insults. Zabini was a git, but a very smart git. He was lazy, Hermione said that was why he had never excelled as she had at school but she also said that if he wanted to, he could have given her a run for her money. That frightened Harry and put him constantly on edge while Zabini was around. In his books, he was the unknown- capable of anything whereas Malfoy was safe and predictable.

"I was just telling Potter that he should leave," Draco informed.

"Quite," Zabini replied, stumbling to his beanbag after grabbing an apple from the kitchen counter, "If he won't go voluntarily, perhaps we should make him Draco."

Harry laughed; the others soon silenced him with an identical look.

"How?" Draco asked quite seriously.

"I've noticed that Potter is not very fond of Pansy..." Blaise said.

"And Pansy seems to be overly fond of Potter..." Draco schemed.

"In fact," Blaise continued, "I think it's fair to say that Pansy wouldn't mind eating Potter alive."

"That's right, disgusting as it is," Draco replied.

"Well, she's your best friend. Perhaps we should invite her around more often, Hermione cannot possibly object."

"You wouldn't!" Harry warned.

Blaise yawned and then took a large bite out of his apple and crunched it noisily, "I think you know we would."

"...unless," Malfoy finished.

"Unless what?" Harry wanted to know, gut sinking.

Malfoy and Zabini exchanged devious glances.

"Do you have a muggle credit card?" Draco wanted to know, his gray eyes brightened with the traditional Slytherin exercise that was black-mail.

"Why?" Harry asked stonily.

"We're not even asking for much," Blaise explained, "just your credit card details for a little online shopping we want to do. We'll let you put the details in yourself and we'll even pay you what we owe you in Galleons."

"I don't get it," Harry stated slowly. He tried to wrap his head first around the fact that the Slytherins were apparently more computer literate than he was and secondly around the whole black mail thing to keep Parkinson out of his face.

"Hermione has a credit card, why didn't you just ask her?" Harry wanted to know.

The snake twins shared another significant glance, "Hermione doesn't exactly approve of our purchase."

Bugger, he should have known.

"No. Effing. Way," he announced.

"Draco, go get Thaddeus. Let's ask Pansy to dinner, shall we?"

Harry groaned in exasperation. If he saw Parkinson again who knows what he would do? Not him, but he was sure it wouldn't be good.

"Fine!" he said, "but if you're trying to buy something to eradicate all Weasly's from the planet I'd like to remind you that I'm an Auror and that we don't take well to homicide, especially of the genocide variety."

Draco actually chuckled, "I'm far more likely to try to eradicate all Potter's from the Universe," he paused looking pensive and a little haunted and then shuddered, "or perhaps all Welsh people."

The last thing Harry was going to do was ask why.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: **_Thanks to reviewers. Also, Cheche you said Blaise is Italian and not Spanish. Well, he's Spanish in this story, at least, part Spanish. You'll find out more about him a bit later._

**Chapter 15- Herbert**

"Stop where you are woman!" Draco all but shrieked.

"What the..." Hermione paused mid-step, hovering nervously in the doorway to her own room.

"Don't move!" he demanded.

"Why?"

"Because Herbert is missing," Blaise supplied, coming up behind her and gently nudging her out of the way, "so watch where you walk."

Hermione had a sinking feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with indigestion and everything to do with the fact that all last week Draco and Blaise had been talking about how great it would be to have a pet tarantula named Herbert.

"Please tell me that you didn't..." Hermione began, squeezing her eyes shut in the hopes that it would all go away. She was pretty sure her worst fears were about to be confirmed.

"You'll love him!" Draco gushed, peering under her desk, "he's eight legs of furry cuteness."

They did! In a moment of shock induced sanity Hermione actually felt like giggling and pointing out that Draco had sounded a lot like Hagrid. At the end of the day self-preservation prevailed, she didn't rather fancy Draco setting his spider on her while she slept. This thought soon subsided as the sneaking pain of a Slytherin induced migraine began to prick at her eyeballs.

"We talked about this," she said, trying to be patient and clamp down the rising temper, "we agreed that we wouldn't get a pet spider because it would be even less of an inducement for Ron to come and visit me here when he gets back from Romania."

Blaise actually guffawed. Hermione would have been angry but she was so amazed. It was probably the single-most graceless thing she'd ever seen him do.

"Yeah, you decided that," Blaise explained, "But Draco and I talked and we decided that the reasons that which you have given for _not_ buying Herbert were actually all the more reason _to_ adopt the cute little bugger."

Hermione felt her tentative grasp on calm slipping away. It might have had a little to do with the series of events that had taken place during her trip to Romania. Mostly, it was because of the spider.

She felt rather than heard the flare of green in the lounge room that signified that Harry was home from work. He trudged down the hall towards them. He looked tired and weary as he the boys ransacking his and Hermione's room. She looked on wearing possibly the scariest face he had ever seen. That included Voldemort's **'I'm Going to Kill You Now Harry Potter' **face. It was like inexplicable anger and murderous rage had gotten together and had a twisted, twisted love child. He quickly decided that welcoming her home was probably not what she wanted right now.

"What's going on, why has Hermione got murder written in her eyes?" he asked, foregoing a sense of foreboding and settling on full-blown anxiety. He was sure that he would be somehow implicated in what was surely going to be an unpleasant experience. Perhaps the boys had already broken it to her that they'd adopted a tarantula.

"The boys here bought a spider," Hermione explained through carefully clenched teeth, "and now have apparently lost said spider."

"Oh no!" Harry cried with involuntary alarm, "Herbert is missing?!"

That is when Hermione officially snapped.

"You _knew_!"

"Well...." Harry mumbled, dropping his gaze to- anywhere but Hermione's extremely angry face, "Ahh- that is, well... I really had nothing to do with it" he gestured at the Slytherins helplessly, trying desperately to pass the buck. God, he knew she'd be more pissed at him than them.

"You helped us pick him out!" Draco interjected, almost sounding betrayed.

"Harry Potter, you knew! You knew and you let these idiots go ahead with it. You _helped_ them!"

Harry shrugged with a shamed-face, "they needed a muggle credit card."

He was beginning to turn a little puce.

Blaise was once again lounging around, half-heartedly poking around near the laundry basket. His features were schooled into graceful amusement. Draco, having taken the chance while he had it, was unnecessarily rifling through her underwear draw.

"Draco!" Hermione barked.

He dropped one of her bras immediately and withdrew cowed. He was smart enough to know that 'just in case' would not be a justifiable reason for her.

"He's pretty cute really Hermione, I know you were thinking of Ron but Herbert's different," Harry tried half-heartedly as he dropped to his hands and knees by her feet and crawled over to peer beneath her bed, "and besides he.... oh."

Here he paused for a moment and gazed up at Hermione in shock before quickly trying to arrange his features into something that could pass for normal.

"Oh?" Hermione prompted.

"It's nothing," he replied a little too quickly, getting to his feet.

"What is it Potty?" Draco inquired.

"Nothing ferret, keep looking. Don't worry," but he almost sounded placating, almost sympathetic.

"Harry, don't _try_ me," Hermione warned.

"Really, trust me Hermione," he looked like he was trying to communicate something with his eyes, "there's nothing under there."

She might have been confused by rage but it looked like he was shaking his head a little at her and pursing his lips a bit. What the hell was wrong with him? Constipation? She made a mental note to include more fibre in their daily intake. Poor Harry.

"I don't buy it," Blaise stated. He crossed his arms and glared at Harry with suspicion. Hermione didn't fail to notice that he looked a little debonair while doing it as well.

It was at this moment that Crookshanks decided to make a grand appearance from up under Hermione's bed. One long, hairy and distinctly spidery limb was still hanging from his chops.

There was a collective silence as they stared at the cat in mutual disgust/morbid curiosity/anger.

Crookshanks actually looked mighty pleased with himself.

A great shriek ripped its way out of Draco's larynx.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Hermione decided not to reward Crookshanks until later.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN:**_ Thanks for reviewing guys. Especially Readerforlife, Weatherwatch and Starlight x-A-x, cause you guys are particularly cool :)_

**Chapter 16 – Sushi**

Later that evening, when everything had settled down and Hermione had reluctantly put Crookshanks in time out in the laundry, Harry took them all out for Sushi.

Harry was really nice like that. Though, she was apparently the only person who appreciated it.

"What the hell is in sushi anyway?" Harry wanted to know.

"It's a kind of Japanese cuisine consisting of rice, fish and nori. You ignorant twit," Draco replied instantly.

Hermione would have told him off but, she was running out of energy where it came to trying to foster a relationship between those two. Plus, she was kind of surprised Draco knew about sushi.

"You know about sushi?" she asked him while Harry sulked a little.

"Do try to keep up Granger. Draco equals intelligent. Malfoy equals cultured. Together they make one spectacular and wise individual."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "last week you told me that Somalia was in South East Asia."

Draco rolled his eyes, "I knew it was in Africa. It was a joke. Besides, Malfoy's don't associate with the third world."

"Well maybe you should make an exception if you ever want to join a conversation in the adult world about things that actually matter," Hermione advised.

"Oh for the love of Merlin! My family is funding your 'Save the Elves' foundation. And now you're making _me_ out to be a bad person."

"Draco, I _blackmailed _your family into funding S.P.E.W."

"Exactly! Pot calling kettle black."

They were seated at a booth next to the sushi train. Hermione was sipping on some pleasant smelling tea. The boys had made their way through several beers already, engaged in some manly competition Hermione presumed. Already there were several plates stacked in front of them.

"So," Blaise said after a while in a tone that warned they were about to get down to business, "are you going to tell us what happened in Romania?"

Hermione sighed heavily. The boys simultaneously leaned in, betraying their extreme curiosity.

"We're on a break," she announced, her words carrying the weight of anxiety she felt about the entire thing.

There was absolute silence from them for a stunned moment.

"What does that even _mean?" _Harry asked.

She shrugged, "I guess it means that we're taking time off from each other."

"Yeah, but you were already doing that. Cause he was in Romania and all," Draco pointed out.

"I know what this is about," Blaise said with a bitter sneer on his face, "this is about Weasley wanting to screw other girls while keeping our Granger here as an option when he gets back."

"Blaise!" Hermione remonstrated; hurt to the quick.

Harry simultaneously said something much ruder to him.

"I'm sorry Hermione," Blaise said honestly, "It's just that he's a guy and even if you truly believe that he's a _good_ guy, you've got to remember that he's still a guy on holidays, surrounded by hot Eastern European women."

Hermione felt a lot like crying, here in the middle of the restaurant.

Surprisingly, it was Draco that seemed to be most in tune with how she was feeling because he put his little pointy face all up close to hers and then he rested one of his hands on her shoulder and gave it a bit of a gentle rub and he kind of half whispered, half exhaled the word 'sorry' in her ear.

Maybe it was the beer he'd consumed, but it was such a sensitive, such a lovely thing for _him_ to do. If anything she'd expect something like that from Harry and after all Draco _hated_ Ron. It actually all made her feel like crying even more. Like, everything she'd been holding in since they'd had their little chat in Charlie's cottage was about to break loose and take control of her and possibly turn her into a monstrous, weepy mess.

"What exactly did he say?" Harry asked seriously.

Hermione looked up at him but the expression in his beautiful green eyes was unreadable, his mouth pursed like he wasn't even sure what was on his mind.

"He said..." and she stopped after that because her voice was a bit squeaky. Draco gave her shoulder a squeeze and Blaise actually stooped to looking a little bit sympathetic. She cleared her throat and tried again.

"He said that lately he'd been feeling like he was doing everything wrong and that it was part of the reason why he'd wanted to go to Romania and that he didn't think it was fair that I was still making him feel like he was doing the wrong thing when he was thousands of miles away."

She noticed Blaise's fist clench around his chopsticks a little and Harry's pursed lips definitely turned down into a frown. She couldn't even look at Draco.

"That's total crap," Blaise said.

"No it's not," she said her voice going back to being creaky, "it's right! I have been blaming him for everything and the truth is... is that I'm the one creating all the problems."

She felt a tear start to work its way out of its duct and slowly creep its way down her cheek. The boys must have noticed because there was immediately a very uncomfortable tension in the room.

"Let's talk about this later," Harry said kindly.

"Absolutely," Blaise agreed.

"Yeah, let's not ruin good sushi with talk of Weasley," Draco said, squeezing her shoulder again and then picking up his chopsticks and grabbing a plate from the train.

She looked at them all, all trying to steadfastly avoid looking at her and her private grief. Simultaneously they picked up their beers and took a large sip. Then Harry noticed that didn't have anything in front of her to eat so he picked something off the train and he placed it under her nose.

"Eat," he urged, like it would make all of her problems go away.

Well she'd try because they were trying so hard.

She loved her friends.

Twenty minutes later, a vastly more inebriated Harry said: "I don't know if it's my imagination, but is the train slowing down with that stuffed capsicum every time it gets to me?"

"What? Maybe... So?" Hermione replied.

"It's because I absolutely detest capsicum," Harry explained.

"You think the train is consciously plotting against you?" Blaise wanted to know, one eyebrow arched.

"Perhaps it wants to poison me," Harry said solemnly.

"I can't recall it being present at Death Eater meetings, but it is possible the train is in league with the late Dark Lord," Draco added wryly.

"Are we talking about a Sushi Train?" Hermione really wanted to know, slightly confused.

"Not just any Sushi Train," Harry corrected, "A self aware, self-conscious sushi train hell bent on my destruction."

"Not everything is determined to kill you Potter," Blaise stated, an amused glint in his eyes.

"There... did you see that? Slowed right down again on that capsicum dish!" Harry pointed out excitedly.

Hermione came to the sudden realization that the boys were getting a little bit drunk.

"The man has a point, this train is smart. A little too smart if you ask me..." Draco supplied mysteriously.

"If it is self conscious, what do you think its thinking?" Blaise asked the table at large.

"What any self aware sushi train would be thinking: I hate myself," Draco retorted quickly.

"Yeah, just imagine," Harry continued excitedly, "it just goes around and around and around. It goes nowhere..."

"What if it's trying to communicate with us?" Blaire interjected, "Its death wish, you know?"

"Yeah through the capsicum!" Harry added.

Draco chuckled, "The only reason it gets up for work everyday is the hope that today will be the day that someone drops a chopstick on the track and de-rails it."

Harry and Blaise were nodding.

"Thus completing its burning desire to end its conscious life," Draco said.

"Exactly!"

"Exactly!"

"Exactly!"

Hermione considered telling them they were stupid and then she saw the smiles on their faces. Three identical smiles and she thought better of it. She smiled herself, a watery, happy smile.

_**AN:**__ Okay, so- not kidding, most of what appears in this fic is based on true life share house experience. That includes the self aware sushi train conversation which is nearly word for word. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 – A Crisis**

Later that evening, as Hermione struggled to help drunken Harry out of his jacket, he interrupted her by saying something rather unusual and startling.

"Hermione, what are you doing with your life?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, surprised.

Harry shrugged and flopped down onto his mattress, smiling up at her tiredly, "I mean, you could be the next Dumbledore ya know, but you're with Ron, you're putting drunken..." here his slurring became a little problematically incoherence, "and you live with Slytherins!"

Hermione felt rather irritated by this little tirade of Harry's- who was he to question her choices in life? Hadn't she earned a little respite?

"You should be like... ministress for magic!"

"Minister," she corrected, "ministress is not a word."

"Well you should be her !"

Hermione sighed heavily, leaning down and tugging on Harry's jacket a little more violently than she would have ordinarily.

"Harry, who says I want any of that?"

"You do!" he accused, swinging around to look at her, "I know you do and we're pulling you down! Me and Ron and..." here he left off, perhaps even in his inebriated state unable to put himself in the same category as the Slytherins.

"Look, Harry..." she huffed, finally getting his arms out of his jacket and pulling it roughly out from under him, "look bloody help me here, take your own shoes off!"

"Answer my question," Harry demanded, sitting up to untie his laces.

"Harry, I promised my parents that I'd give it all a break while I'm at Uni okay and I intend to keep that promise. Even if sometimes I'd like to just skip ahead and get stuck into S.P.E.W., they're absolutely right. I'm a witch- I've got a good hundred years or so ahead of me. I've had an... intense time of it these last several years. As have we all and I'm just happy to not have to worry about my best friend being hunted down by a mass murderer for a change."

At which point, at the very height of Hermione's rational response, Harry gave a very decided, very strident snore.

She rolled her eyes and kicked the side of his mattress in annoyance.

How dare he open up that can of worms and then fall asleep before she could properly illustrated in detail all of the reasons behind her recent decision making.

Yes she turned down a very prestigious internship at the Ministry in Magical Law Enforcement. So what? Worse things had happened than letting one single opportunity pass bye, she knew that from experience.

And she still had her hand in S.P.E.W and even occasionally, Malfoy Industries. Her life wasn't so bad. She still had so much to do before she even thought about settling into a career like graduating and travel and well... was she wasting her talents?

The thought sat on her tongue like a bitter pill until she swallowed it forcefully and felt it going down like a heavy stone.

Harry heaved another enthusiastic snore, startling her somewhat.

There was still plenty of time. For now, she was Hermione the struggling university student that worked part time at Alphabetties and moonlighted as a political activist. That would have to be enough for a few more years.

But the thought that she was wasting her time would not leave her conscience easily, even as she trudged to class under a light drizzle of rain. Perhaps the drab, gray hue cast on her surroundings was bringing out a taupe flavoured solemnity in her but what Harry had so carelessly said had deeply affected her. To the very core.

She was twenty years old. When she had been around thirteen she'd written herself a letter. Though it was probably lost amongst her parents things in Australia, she could still vaguely remember that her thirteen year old self had very high expectations for her twenty-one year old self. So far, she'd only fulfilled one of them, keep Harry alive.

She was supposed to already have made her mark on the world by now but the truth was, aside from the fame and stigma that came with being Harry Potter's best friend- she hadn't actually done anything of her own merit that would have met her younger self's standards. Sure, hunting for Hallows had been rather traumatic and exciting- enough for any person in a lifetime. But what had happened to her other ambitions? She'd started out alright; she'd made all the right moves. Secured the Malfoy's patronage, spent countless hours in the kitchen talking with the elves in her last year of Hogwarts and then they'd graduated and here she was, living in the Den. Preoccupied not with turning down invitations from prestigious institutions and wizards to meet and share with them her knowledge and experience. Instead her main preoccupation was, truthfully, with boys. It was so utterly typical. That was not what she wanted for herself, Hermione Granger did not really want to be an average twenty-one year old student, despite what she'd told her parents. But at the same time, in some small way, she'd never felt so satisfied with her lot in life. Despite her preoccupation with the Ron problem, the Harry problem had been resolved and she'd had some genuine fun since she moved in with the Slytherins. That had to count as a real achievement for her. Loosening up hadn't exactly been second-nature.

With that, slightly mollifying thought she reached her destination. She was in front of a set of heavy oak doors off the great court. Students were milling around, taking leisurely sips from Styrofoam cups filled with coffee. The delicate aroma of the coffee tantalized Hermione's nostrils, but really there was not a moment to lose. She was on her way to a first year elective in the muggle side of the University. A philosophy course entitled 'Sexuality and Me' that traversed Ancient Greek thoughts on sexuality to the continental philosophers like Sartre and Merlot-Pointe and reflecting on sexuality and gender issues in contemporary society. Hermione figured that in her prospective line of work, she'd be facing down the pillars of the magical community who were all well-known to be male and stodgy, traditionalists. She wanted to change that. She wanted to take what she could learn in regards to progress in the muggle community and literally shove it down the throats of the archaic wizards the ministry was teeming with.

She pushed her way through a throng of students, crowded around the open doors of lecture hall N101. She recognized a few familiar faces, people who were also in her tutorial classes. Everyone seemed unusually thoughtful and tended to wear dark and sombre colours and interesting hats to class. Hermione fought to not roll her eyes at the obvious philosophy student clichés perched with their coffees in the hallway and the first few rows of the lecture theatre.

She took a seat towards the middle herself, shuffling past a young couple engrossed in a quiet, but intense argument.

Just as she was pulling out her notebook and a muggle pen to take notes with the last of the loitering students entered the room and took a seat, followed in the rear by their Professor. He was a peculiar man by the name of Jason A. Klink who had the odd propensity of pausing indelicately in the middle of his speech and staring at one or another of his students until they were positively blushing and squirming in their seats. He did this for seemingly no reason and Hermione was only glad that she had not yet been the subject of his intense scrutiny. It was as if, when his eyes inevitably found a target he was searching for some greater depth in the faces of his students. Some great sign that what he was saying was actually getting through their thick skulls. Well, Hermione wasn't sure whether he ever found any answers. She did know that the other students must have felt as she did: that it was entirely difficult to take him seriously when he was lecturing because he was comically stout and rotund and sometimes needed even to stand on tiptoes and employ a pointer to draw their attention to a certain point on one of his projections on the wall. The awkwardness of his physicality teemed with his constant pauses mid sentence to stare at his pupils was rather disquieting. He did however; know what he was talking about.

"Okay students; let's fill those lovely heads of yours with some Plato."

Hermione's felt her heart sink.

They were starting Plato already? Wasn't that supposed to be next week? She'd been meaning to get ahead and read the Symposium but hasn't Kinks said last week that they were going to be covering Phaedrus first?

Good lord, she was going to have to wing it and pray that Klink's gaze did not finally land on her.

Finding it difficult to breathe, she pulled roughly at her collar feeling frustrated and anxious. The young couple next to her turned and stared.

Great.

Half an hour later the inevitable came to pass.

Jason Klink paused midway through explaining one of Socrates dissertations and gave a great heaving sigh. His eyes roamed the hall for a heart-stopping minute. Pausing first at the couple beside Hermione for a precious second and then moving on and finding her face, hers! He settled his eyes on her, ignoring the fifty or so other beings in the room.

It was pure hell. There was uncensored, ripe disapproval in that gaze, almost as if Jason A. Klink was reading her soul and divining that she had not done that weeks reading.

She wanted to crawl under her desk in shame.

Forget the fact that she'd survived Voldemort, she was about to die of embarrassment.

She felt all of the other eyes in the room upon her and felt that they too were mocking her, aware that she had come to class unprepared.

And then it got worse.

"Miss Granger, isn't it?" Klink inquired with his deep baritone.

"Y-yes!" Hermione all but squeaked in reply.

"What does a young, attractive woman of the modern would such as yourself think Diotima was talking about when she told Socrates' of 'Divine' love?"

Hermione could feel herself choking even before she tried to get any words out.

"Well..." she said.

Jason A. Klink continued his torturous stare.

Really, what right did he have? He very rarely asked students questions directly! Why was he picking on her? It must have been because he knew she had come unprepared.

"That is..." she tried to continue, failing to find her voice or recall in any of her readings on Greek philosophy who the hell this Diotima was!

She could feel the heat coming off her cheeks. She knew her guilt must have been written all over her face.

Thankfully, Kink took pity on her.

"No thought? Never mind, perhaps we can grab a coffee and discuss it after class?"

She nodded clumsily.

He stared for another full minute, not saying a word to the class.

Nobody moved. Their eyes riveted on Hermione.

All of a sudden Kink lurched back into action turning and standing on tip toe to point to something on his slide.

Hermione exhaled sharply, wanting to melt into a puddle on the ground and slither away.

She briefly considered retrieving her wand from her satchel and casting a disillusionment charm but figured that breaking the Statute of Secrecy would only make her day worse.

Painfully and only because she absolutely had to masochistically punish herself more. Hermione peeked over her shoulder.

Most of the class's attention was back on the Professor at the front of the class. Except for the girl sitting a few seats down from Hermione. The one that had previously been arguing with her boyfriend.

She offered Hermione what, in retrospect, must have been a truly condoling smile.

At the time however, Hermione just wanted to take her copy of The Phaedrus out of her bag and chuck it right at the girls head.

What a horrible start to the day!

**AN:** Sorry. The reason this chapter took so long to post is because I really, really dislike it. This fic is following some messed up plan in my head and I know that I was frustrated with Hermione's character because I wasn't getting across that she was still a very bright girl but that she'd kind of, put her ambitions on hold. Also, it was important to explain that she's not so happy about that because it will become important a bit later in the story. It's so funny to me that she's almost facing the very real crisis the mothers face today: how to balance one's ambitions outside of motherhood with the very important role of raising ones children. Of course, Hermione isn't a mother but she's pretty much got a full time job taking care of the inhabitants of the Den :D

And now for something completely different. I just read a fic where the author did this, but she responded to pages and pages of reviews. Luckily for me, I've only got a healthy several recent reviews to respond to and so I shall:

**JaceDamian23**: Ahh, where would we be without our best friends? And you're now inevitably mine, for reviewing! Thanks :)

**Rainbowstarz**: I love your username, it makes me want to draw rainbows and stars all over my notebook. I promise that, now I have this yucky chapter out of my system, I will update again soon. Thanks :)

**Ebbe04 (Liz):** I want Sushi too! But I always want sushi. Thanks for yet another review :)

**WeatherWatch:** If you like the Sushi train conversation wait until I manage to incorporate the gay dinosaur conversation ;) Thanks for your reviews.

**Readerforlife**: Ha ha, I'm glad I made your brother look at you like you're crazy. I know what that's like. Thanks again for the reviews.

**Anonymous**: Again I love your username. Glad you liked it ;) Thanks for the review!

**Starlight x-A-X**: Yep, Harry is definitely becoming a part of the Den but, don't think that the Slytherin's are going to happily accept that. They have a facade to maintain! Thanks again for the review :)

To the other 70 or so of you who have this story on their update list: I hope you are enjoying it and I'm sorry for not updating in such a long time :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: An Email**

To: .

Re: Dad

Darling,

Thank you for keeping me in the loop. It's hard to be so far away from my only daughter.

First, let me give you some advice about Ron. He is still just a boy. Now, I know you love him darling and I like him a lot myself but you need to start thinking realistically about the future. Is he serious about building a life with you? Does he support you? Does he fulfil your emotional needs?

As you pointed out, he's shown great maturity in letting old rivalries go and moving past old issues to accept that your housemates are in your life but Hermione- ask yourself, is it enough?

Beyond what he wants: What do you want? Wouldn't you be in Romania if it was Ron you wanted? Or wouldn't he be there with you?

These are hard questions darling, but what else is a mother for?

As you know, I'm rather biased against Ronald and your other friends because of what we talked about when you last visited. You HAVE been thinking about it, haven't you Hermione?

Now- about your father. Of course progress is still slow darling, we can't expect much else. The problem is of course, he's not ready to accept that he's not just imagining things yet. I'm gently encouraging him.

Which is why I am begging you again: consider what we talked about? Won't you please just give it all up and move to Sydney to be close to us?

My only comfort is that you're attending a normal school. You'll be able to get credit transferred when you come here. Hermione, do remember that you did promise you'd try to cut magic out as much as possible. It IS dangerous darling, as we all well know.

Okay, well I have to go. Your father will be missing his dinner if I keep on any longer.

Everything aside darling, I love and miss you.

Lots of love,

Mum

P.S. As for Harry Potter living with you- I refuse to comment!

P.P.S. Don't work too hard!

AN: Sorry for the long hiatus!


End file.
